What's in a Name
by catharticone
Summary: Who is he now, really, and what will he become? Post "Journey's End."
1. Chapter 1

**_Disclaimer: _"Doctor Who" is the property of the BBC, and no infringement is intended.**

**Thanks, as ever, to Sonic Jules for moral support and beta assistance.**

**Author's Note: This is set immediately after the TARDIS departs Bad Wolf Bay in "Journey's End."**

* * *

The wind did not diminish after the ship's abrupt departure. Rose stood with the Doctor, her fingers entwined with his, watching the empty beach. He gave her all the time she needed, keeping his hand firmly within hers and watching her with patient, mildly concerned eyes.

It was Jackie who finally broke the silence. She'd pulled out her mobile immediately after the TARDIS disappeared, but the hiss of the wind carried her words away.

"Right. I've phoned Pete. He's sending a helicopter, but it can't get here 'til tomorrow mornin'. Looks like there's a storm comin' in, an' the pilot won't risk it. But Pete's found a hotel we can stay at tonight, an' the 'copter'll be here first thing in the mornin'."

The Doctor nodded and looked down at Rose again. She met his gaze, offering him a thin smile.

"S'pose we'll be home soon," she said.

"Home," he repeated, wondering at the implication of the word. He would have a new home now, a grounded, permanent place to live. His thoughts whirled, but all he said was, "Will I have to get a mortgage?" He arched an eyebrow at her.

Rose took a moment to recall the reference, but when she did she grinned, a gesture of both humor and relief. He remembered their time on Krop Tor; he really did have all the same memories, all the same feelings…

"So where's this hotel?" he asked Jackie.

The air was growing colder by the minute, and the wind had not relented. The older woman studied the small screen on her phone for a moment then pointed the device toward her left. "This way, 'bout three-quarters of a kilometer."

The Doctor slid his arm around Rose's shoulders, and they followed Jackie across the deserted, chilly beach.

* * *

The flat, sandy surface yielded to a small patch of rough rock, exposed now that the tide was out. The three travelers could see the inn; its lights glowed warmly in the gathering gloom. They would be able to reach the hotel most quickly by crossing the rocky tide pools. Skirting the area would add another half a kilometer to their trek, and the weather was worsening quickly.

"This'll be the fastest way," the Doctor shouted over the rush of wind. He swept a hand toward the stretch of low rocks.

Jackie nodded, already moving ahead. She was clearly anxious to get out of the wind, to find shelter before the storm hit fully. She stepped gingerly over the slick, coarse stones.

The Doctor touched Rose's elbow. "Go ahead!" he yelled.

She nodded, brushing the hair out of her face. With one quick glance back, she called, "Be careful!"

Jackie trudged forward sturdily, moving with more alacrity and surety than the Doctor would have expected from her. He supposed that chasing a toddler about had made her quicker than she'd been last time he'd seen her. His eyes moved back to Rose. She was stepping gingerly, watching her footing and trying to look back at him often.

"I'm all right!" he called. Really, he was. But she appeared mildly worried. He supposed it was the thought that he was no longer infallible; he had a definite life span now, and that was something he'd need to consider long and hard.

He looked up from the rocks, watching Rose as she moved along. Jackie was nearly to the edge of the tide pool now. In a few moments her feet were back on the hard-packed sand. She looked back to assess her daughter's and his progress.

"C'mon," she called, beckoning with a wide arc of her arm. "Storm'll be here any minute!"

Indeed, the wind sheared across the beach more fiercely than ever. A strong gust blasted over the rocks, catching the Doctor momentarily off guard. He tottered, scrambling to maintain his balance.

"Doctor!" Rose cried, turning back quickly.

He regained his bearings, finding a higher rock against which he could quickly plant one foot. Rose, however, did not fare as well. By the time he realized she had slipped, it was too late to spring forward and catch her. He saw he fall onto her knees, blond hair whipped furiously about her head.

"Rose!" he shouted, hurrying forward.

She was still struggling to regain her footing when he reached her. Quickly he took her elbow and pulled her up. "All right?" he asked.

She nodded. "Yeah."

Icy rain had begun to fall, stinging their exposed skin. The rocks would be too slick for any type of successful movement within a few minutes. He took her hand and led her forward as quickly as he dared.

They reached Jackie, who immediately hugged her daughter then urged them all to sprint for the hotel. By the time they reached it, sleet was slicing through the air. They entered the lobby, immediately relishing the warmth from the large stone fireplace. Jackie marched to the small reception desk to announce their arrival.

The Doctor brushed the ice from Rose's hair, and she did the same for him. She was shivering, and he realized that he was, too. He had a human's body temperature, or something close to it, now; he'd have to get used to that. He realized that he was slightly winded from their dash, too. Damn. He'd probably have to start working out, building up his respiratory and coronary fitness to compensate for the loss of his bivascular system…

"Rooms're ready," Jackie announced, bustling back to her daughter's side. "But they've only got two. You with me, sweetheart?" she asked her daughter.

Rose looked up at the Doctor questioningly. He nodded and took her hand.

"S'pose you two've got some catchin' up to do," Jackie assented, passing the Doctor a key. "Room's up there." She tilted her head to the left.

"Meet you in an hour for dinner?" Rose replied with a grateful smile.

The elder Tyler nodded. "In the meantime, you both look liked drowned rats. Get warmed up."

"You too, Mum." Rose kissed her mother's cheek, and Jackie headed up the stairs to the right.

The Doctor glanced at the key. "Ten," he said.

"What's that?"

"Our room number. Ten."

"Oh, right."

She was still shaking, and her hand felt very cold even against his own chilled skin. "Come on. I think a hot bath is in order."

He urged her toward the staircase. However, when her foot hit the first stair, she grunted in pain, stopping to reach down and press a hand over her knee.

His eyes followed the movement. Her jeans were damp, and it took him a moment to realize that the patch over her knee was darker. He hadn't lost his heightened sense of smell entirely; he could still detect the faint tang of iron.

"You're bleeding," he said.

"'S nothin'," she replied. "Just scraped it on the rocks."

"You sure?"

"Yeah."

She climbed the staircase beside him, but he saw that she was limping. He'd do a quick scan with the sonic screwdriver once they reached—Oh. He didn't have that trusty instrument any more. He could make another one, if he could find the proper equipment and parts, but that would require time.

"This is it," Rose said, stopping in front of a door.

He slid the key into the lock and opened the door. The room was small but cozy, with a little pot-bellied wood stove that had already been lit. There were two double beds, a loveseat, and a diminutive writing desk. Thick down comforters graced the beds, and two terry cloth robes hung in the tiny open closet.

Rose's teeth were chattering as she sank down onto the nearest bed. "God, 'm cold," she said.

He was chilled, too, but not as severely as she was. He caressed her cheek gently, his fingers brushing over the pulse point in her throat. His hand stilled for a moment at the fluttering beneath his fingertips. No wonder she was so cold; reaction was setting in. And why shouldn't it? After all she'd been though, after all she'd lost and all she'd found, of course she'd be close to shock once it all sank in. He understood that now…but there wasn't time to ponder it.

He moved to the bathroom quickly, disappointed to find only a stall shower rather than a bathtub. Well, it would have to do. He turned on the water then returned to Rose.

She sat motionlessly, her gaze blank. He could see the rapid rise and fall of her chest.

"Need to get you warm," he told her, but she did not reply.

Quickly he pulled off her jacket and shirt, before lifting her to her feet and tugging off her shoes and socks. When he slid off her jeans he saw the blood on her knee, but that wasn't his primary concern just now.

He propelled Rose into the bathroom. He checked the water, adjusted it slightly, then placed his hands upon her shoulders.

"Get in," he told her.

She nodded woodenly, but he saw comprehension in her eyes. He turned away while she removed her underwear, but once he heard the shower door click closed he spun around to watch her foggy form.

* * *

_To be continued..._


	2. Chapter 2

Rose stood beneath the hot water, letting it stream over her face and shoulders. She still felt numb and cold, but awareness was returning to her in stages.

She knew that the Doctor was standing outside the shower; he was worried about her. She should say something to him. But she needed a little time to process what had happened. It had all been so fast, almost a blur, and when he'd bent to whisper in her ear, to utter those three words she'd waited so, so long to hear, she'd felt that her heart would burst.

She'd kissed him without thinking; it had been an automatic reaction. It had felt natural, and he'd responded as though they'd never been apart. So she hadn't allowed herself to think about it too much, to consider what she'd lost, because she'd gained something—someone—too.

She understood intellectually that he wasn't precisely the same person, even though he carried the memories and the emotions of his twin. He was half-human now, with a single heart, and that was very, very different. Yet already she'd seen the effects of that difference. She could read emotion, true human emotion, on his face, and his love for her radiated with each smile and every glance he gave her.

A part of Rose wanted to think about it and think hard, because she knew that this man, this human, wasn't really her Doctor. But he was so close, and she'd missed him so, so much…

"Rose," he called softly through the steam and glass. "You all right?" His voice carried concern.

She took a step back, away from the water, and opened the door. "You're cold, too," she said, extending her hand out into the cool air beyond the steamy sanctuary.

She waited for several seconds, then he took her hand. When he dropped it again she stepped back under the stream, her gaze focused on the blank whiteness of the tiled wall. She heard the door open and felt a rush of momentary cold, then the door clicked shut and the Doctor moved to stand behind her.

Water was rushing over her face again. His hands were on her crown, brushing the wet strands back, smoothing the hair away from her eyes and cheeks and mouth. She knew that he was close to her, but aside from his hands he did not attempt to touch her. She tilted her head back to rest upon his shoulder, moving back until she felt his chest against her shoulder blades.

The hand that rested over her brow was warm; he'd never felt like this before. His touch had always been cool, and even though she'd quickly grown accustomed to his lower body temperature, it had always seemed just a bit foreign to her. But this man, this human whose lean, spare chest and stomach were now shielding her back, wasn't cold at all. The gentle kiss he pressed to her temple was delivered with warm, soft lips.

"Rose," he whispered against her ear, his voice husky and reverent. "I love you."

Her hand moved up to cradle his cheek. "I know." They were barely words, more of an extended exhalation, but he heard her.

His arms lowered to cross lightly over her ribs, his hands settling gently against her belly. His rested his chin over her crown, and she wondered for a moment at how perfectly they fit together when they were standing like this.

Neither spoke for some time as the water flowed over their bodies. Finally his hand opened to splay over her flank. "You're warmer," he told her.

"You too," she replied.

"Yes."

She reached for the handle on the wall and turned off the water. He stepped out of the stall, and by the time she'd turned around he'd hung a towel over the door. She took it and wrapped it around herself.

The small room was empty when she left the stall, but a robe hung behind the door. Her clothes and his still lay in a soggy pile on the floor. Rose took a minute to hang them over the radiator, then she blotted the water from her hair. She slipped on the robe.

The Doctor was sitting on the bed, legs stretched out before him, his own robe tied about his waist. He smiled at her and patted the mattress. She returned the smile as she padded toward him. She sank down beside him and lifted her legs to the bed so that she could snuggle under his waiting arm. However, this motion brought a thrum of pain to her knee, and she winced.

He frowned as he saw the evidence of pain upon her face. His eyes moved down to her leg. The robe covered her knee partially. He pulled it aside to expose the injury. She was rather sorry to lose the comfort of his arm and shoulder as he shifted around to sit beside her legs.

"Hurts?" he asked as his fingers delicately traced the outer edge of the raw, ragged scrapes. He shook his head before she could reply. "'Course it does. Sorry."

His hand moved gently over her knee, pressing lightly in various spots. Rose bit at her lower lip, determined not to cry out, but the wound was really quite painful, and his prodding was not helping. She must have twisted something or hit the rock harder than she'd realized. She tried to focus upon the warmth of the Doctor's skin and the softness of his touch.

"Well," he said after what felt like an hour but was probably closer to half a minute, "you haven't torn your vastus medialis or injured your patella—"

"You still remember all that stuff?" Rose asked.

He glanced up and nodded. "I have all the same memories, all the same knowledge." Returning his attention to her knee, he said, "This needs to be cleaned and bandaged. I'll run down to reception and see if they have a first aid kit."

He hopped to his feet and began walking toward the door.

"Um, Doctor," Rose began, a grin spreading over her face.

"Hmm?" He turned back.

She gestured toward his bare calves and slender, pale feet. "Plannin' on goin' down like that?"

He glanced down. "What? I'm decent, aren't I? All my bits are covered."

She giggled. "Yeah, s'pose they are. But people don't usually go runnin' around hotels in their robes, unless they're goin' to the pool or beach."

He gave her a mock pout. "Fine. I'll just call the desk, then, and see if they can send it up."

As he was speaking with the hotel manager, Rose's gaze wandered to the clock. They were supposed to meet her mum for dinner, but she'd completely lost track of the time. When the Doctor was finished with his call, she reached for the phone.

"D'you know what room Mum's in?" she asked him.

"Thirteen—easy number to remember for her." He quirked an eyebrow playfully.

"Oi! That's m'mum you're talking about! She came a long way to help you." She gave his arm a light slap.

"Yes," he said, his tone much softer now, "she did." He rested his palm over her hand.

"An' we're s'posed to meet her for dinner, only I've lost track of the time. How long's it been since we came up here?"

"Fifty-three minutes and nineteen seconds," he replied immediately.

Now it was her turn to arch a well-shaped brow in his direction. He'd always had an infallible sense of time—the other Him. This man possessed that, too, apparently in spades. "Right."

She punched in her mother's room number and waited a few rings for Jackie to answer.

"Rose? What is it, sweetheart? Is somethin' wrong?"

"No, everything's fine. But our clothes're still wet. I don't think they'll be dry 'til morning."

"Same here. I was thinkin' of just orderin' room service. D'you mind?"

Somewhat relieved, Rose replied, "No, that's a good idea. We'll do the same thing."

"Are you really all right?"

Rose thought for a few moments before she answered. Her eyes moved to the Doctor. He was watching her with a gentle, affectionate expression, one she'd seen repeatedly in the scant hours since they'd left the beach. Oh, she'd seen that look before, but never so frequently, and never so openly. Finally, she said, "Yeah, I think I am."

"That's good, sweatheart. I'm gonna call Tony an' tell him a bedtime story—"

"Tell him his big sis sends a big kiss."

"I will. You call me if you need me, or come to my room if… well, if you want."

"Thanks, Mum. Love you."

"Love you, too."

Rose hung up just as they heard the knock at the door. The Doctor answered it and accepted the first aid kit from the manager.

"Is there anything else I can get you, sir?" he asked. "I can call a doctor if it's serious."

"No, no need for that. But we could use some dinner—something hearty and hot."

The manager nodded. "I'll take care of it."

The Doctor sat down beside Rose again and opened the kit. He rummaged around for a bit then removed several packaged antiseptic wipes. He spent some time cleaning the wound, his motions gentle yet assiduous. Rose sat as stoically as possible, but once or twice she made a little squeak of pain.

He looked up, his expression close to stricken. "I'm sorry—"

"It's all right," she reassured him, terribly touched by his depth of emotion.

He placed a large square of gauze over the injury and solicitously taped it in place. "There. How's that feel?"

"Better." Really, it did. "Thanks."

He smiled softly. "You're welcome."

* * *

He was hungry: really, truly hungry. It was something he had not experienced in a very long time. Oh, he remembered that his Time Lord's body had required some sustenance, and he'd enjoyed certain foods for their tastes, textures, and nutrients. But this was different.

The Doctor found the salmon soup delectable and polished off the entire bowl in about a minute and a half. He loved the dark, thick bread, particularly with lingonberry jam slathered over it. He might have eaten five slices, but who was counting? The pork roulade was flavorful and nearly succeeded in filling his belly, but he still found room for the sweet, syrupy apple dessert.

He'd been so focused on his own plates that he failed to notice Rose's. However, as he was debating whether to pick up his dessert bowl and lick out every last drop of syrup, he glanced at her dish, hoping for a few leftover morsels. Her dessert was nearly untouched, as were her soup and pork. The bread basket was empty, but he suspected that was his doing alone.

He set his bowl aside and regarded her with concern. "You barely touched your food. Aren't you hungry?"

Her gaze flicked to the plates. "Looks like you ate enough for both of us."

"It tasted really good."

She smiled. "I'm glad you enjoyed it."

"I think I'm going to enjoy eating a lot of things from now on."

A faint blush crept over her cheeks, and he wondered if she was running a fever. He reached over to press his palm against her brow.

"What're you doin'?" she asked, but she didn't pull away.

"Temperature's normal." He removed his hand and felt his own forehead. "Mine, too. Well, 98.4, a bit lower than the average human body temperature, but I think that'll be normal for me now."

"Yeah, s'pose so."

She had a curious expression on her face, one that he found difficult to interpret. But he recognized that something was troubling her. He took her hand in his.

"What's the matter?" he asked gently.

She shook her head and blinked, and he realized that she had tears in her eyes. "It's just… I waited so long, an' now you're here, but it's _you,_ an' that's good, I know it is, but…" She swallowed back a sob.

"But I'm not him," he finished. He lifted his hands to cup her cheeks. "Thing is, Rose, I _am_ him. We have the same cells, nearly identical DNA, the same hair and hands and feet, and even the same teeth. But what's most important, what's best about everything we share, are the memories of you. I know I wasn't there physically, at least not in this form, but I still remember. And really, a part of me was there, because I came from him."

The tears spilled from her eyes. "You really do remember? Before, you said you'd have to get a mortgage—"

"Just as you did on Krop Tor, in the shadow of that black hole." He paused for a moment. "But there is a difference."

She sniffed. "What's that?"

"When you said that to me then, I couldn't imagine it, didn't even want to consider what it would mean if I couldn't get the TARDIS back. But now I want to think about it. I still feel the urge to travel, to explore, but the idea of staying in one place doesn't really bother me, as long as it's with you."

He enveloped her in his arms as she wept softly. His hand stroked her hair, and he whispered soothing words in her ear. Finally she looked up at him, lifting a hand to his face.

"So, what d'you think you'll do now?" she asked as her fingers traced his cheekbones and ears.

A funny, tingling sensation was spreading throughout his body. He took a breath. "Erm, I'm not really sure. The whole mortgage thing… how's that work?"

Rose smiled. "You won't need a mortgage. I have a place in the city—a townhouse. It's plenty big enough for two."

"Well, that's one thing taken care of then."

"Yep."

After a few seconds of thought, he said, "Suppose I'll need a job. Something to keep me busy—"

"Keep you out of trouble's more like it," she teased.

He captured her wandering hand gently and kissed her palm. "Wouldn't mind being in trouble with you."

"Hmm. I'm sure I can get you a job at Torchwood. We get into loads of messes there."

He leaned forward. "Maybe." He kissed her softly, just at the edge of her mouth. "We'll see."

Her hands moved into his hair as her lips sought his. He offered absolutely no resistance.

* * *

_To be continued..._


	3. Chapter 3

Dull, grey light seeped through the curtains, and Rose wondered if the storm had passed. She listened for a few moments but heard only the soft sound of breathing behind her. The Doctor's body was curled around hers, his arm draped over her side. She rolled over so that she could see his face.

His expression was relaxed in sleep. She had never seen him look quite like this… But then she had never seen _Him_ before yesterday. She slipped her hand inside his robe to rest her palm over his heart. The beat was steady and strong, and for this man, this slumbering human, it felt right.

His eyes opened slowly, and he gave her a languid smile. "Morning."

She smiled in return. "Mornin'."

"I slept," he said, eyes opening wider in mild surprise. He glanced at the clock, then added, "For seven hours. Do you think I'll do that every night?" Now his expression was slightly aghast.

"Dunno. But it's all right if you do. It's part of bein' human."

"Maybe I'll only need three-and-a-half hours," he mused, "since I'm only half."

"Maybe. We'll just have to wait an' see."

The phone rang, and Rose answered it to be reminded by Jackie that the helicopter would arrive in forty minutes. Rose got out of bed, wincing a bit as she put her sore knee into motion. The clothes had dried overnight, so she dressed in the bathroom then brought the Doctor's things out to him.

He was flipping rapidly through the channels on the television, his eyes moving quickly over each image.

"She'll leave him for his step-grandfather, who's only five years older than she is," the Doctor said as he spent all of three seconds on a serial. "No, no, it's the Byzantine empire, not the Ming Dynasty! Come on, everyone knows that!" he nearly shouted when a game show came onto the screen. The next channel showed the weather, and he commented, "Forty percent chance of rain? More like forty-six point eight. Can't they get these things right? With that dew point and the convection from the high pressure system, not to mention the Madden-Julian oscillation—wait, suppose they don't have that here, at least not by that name."

"Come on," Rose urged with a shake of her head, "get dressed. I could really use a coffee before we leave."

He tore his gaze away from the screen. "Oh, you're all ready to go."

"Just about. I'm gonna go see Mum. Meet you downstairs?"

"Yep." His eyes moved back to the screen.

"Doctor," she said rather firmly, "turn that off."

He gave her a slightly abashed look. "Oh. Right."

She was tempted to take the remote from him, but she decided against it. She did, however, wait until he switched off the T.V. before going downstairs.

* * *

He'd been in helicopters before, of course. Well, he had distinct memories of such rides, he conceded. But this seemed different. It was slightly more thrilling, and he paid close attention to all of the gauges, dials, and readings. It reminded him just a bit of the ship he'd taken while on Midnight. He shuddered at the recollection.

The pilot seemed slightly annoyed by his barrage of comments, questions, and offers to upgrade the equipment. The Doctor didn't quite understand why; he thought he was being friendly and helpful. He did love technology, even though this planet's gadgets were fairly primitive. Still, he could always find ways to improve upon them. Maybe he'd seek out a job in the tech sector. Might be fun, tinkering away with equipment, building a better mousetrap, as it were.

"All right?" Rose yelled, reaching forward to rest her hand over his arm.

"Oh yeah, fine!" he called back.

"You're havin' fun, aren't you?"

"Little bit, yeah."

"Wait'll you see the stuff we get at Torchwood. You'll love it!"

"Alien tech and all that," he finished.

She nodded and gave his arm a squeeze before leaning back to continue her talk with Jackie.

The Doctor looked out the window at the passing countryside. They were crossing the English Channel now; they'd be back in London, at Pete's estate, soon. And then his new life would begin. He took a few moments to consider the magnitude of this.

He would be with Rose; that was the most important thing. She had a flat and a good job, and she'd get him on at Torchwood, find something for him to do. He did like technology and science. Then again, maybe he should work as a professor, teaching and doing research. Surely this version of England had an Oxford or Cambridge or Newcastle. There was the small matter of his official qualifications, but he could figure out some way to deal with that. After all, even if he didn't have his psychic paper anymore, he was still brilliant.

He did enjoy teaching. Setting aside all the nasty business with The Family and the Krillitanes, he'd found instructing the students at Farringham and Deffry Vale surprisingly rewarding.

He pulled his thoughts back to the pilot, who was telling him about a new navigation system that would be available in a few months. The Doctor smiled; it was new for this world but archaic to him. Still, he listened politely, amused by the pilot's enthusiasm.

They landed behind the estate. Pete and a small boy ran out to greet them. Hugs and handshakes were offered while the child hid behind Jackie's leg.

"What's this then?" she asked him, taking his hand and gently urging him toward the Doctor. "You don't have to be afraid of 'im, Tony. This is the Doctor. Rose's told you all about him."

The Doctor crouched down and extended his hand. "Pleased to meet you, Tony," he said affably.

The boy reached for the proffered hand rather reticently, clearly still wary of the stranger. The tiny hand barely covered the Doctor's palm. After a brief, gentle squeeze, the Doctor ruffled Tony's hair.

The little boy smiled at the gesture, his shyness fading quickly in the face of the broad, sincere grin offered him.

Pete led them into the expansive house. Tony held his mother's hand, but he glanced back at the Doctor frequently, clearly enamored of his new friend.

"You're good with kids," Rose said as they walked arm in arm.

"Am I? I'd never really thought about it before."

"You were great with Chloe Webber," she reminded him.

That was an interesting piece of information. He remembered the stroking the girl's temple as she lay shuddering, struggling with the Isolus. He'd offered her some small comfort, hadn't he? He wasn't quite sure what to do with that memory, but he felt that it should mean something. However, Pete was asking him about the Daleks, so he left the topic to ponder at another time.

* * *

A massive breakfast had been laid out for the travelers. They ate and talked. As they were finishing, Rose spoke to Pete.

"The Doctor's gonna work with me at Torchwood. Can you get the paperwork together?"

Pete nodded. "Sure."

The Doctor swallowed his orange juice quickly. "Won't I need some sort of qualifications?"

"I'll take care of it," Pete responded.

"What'll my job be?"

"Scientific advisor, special investigator… we'll think of something," Pete said.

Rose smiled. "Thanks." She stood up and placed her hand on the Doctor's shoulder. "You ready to go home now?"

"Just one more piece of bacon?"

She rolled her eyes. "One. But you're gonna have to start takin' it easy on those. Only one heart now, remember?"

He put down the slice of bacon. "Right."

She nodded approvingly then kissed her mother, stepfather, and little brother good bye.

* * *

A driver took them into the city. Rose's townhouse was elegant but not ostentatious. It had a large living room and spacious kitchen, separate dining room that looked as though it have never been used, two bathrooms, and three bedrooms, one of which served as a home office.

"So," Rose said after she'd finished the tour, "s'pose we'll need to get you some clothes. You can't go around wearin' that suit day in an' day out."

"Worked for me before."

"Yeah, but I don't have a sonic refresher here. That'll have to go to the cleaners. Besides, you might not wanna wear a suit all the time."

He looked down at his attire, running his hands over his lapels. "I could probably use a new shirt," he conceded, removing his jacket.

"I'm gonna change," she said. "Been wearin' this way too long."

She walked off to her bedroom. He noticed that she was still limping a bit. It only took a bit of rummaging through her kitchen, guest bath, and hallway linen cabinet to find her first aid kit. It was surprisingly well stocked, but he supposed that working for Torchwood would tend to make one extra jeopardy friendly. Still, he hated to think of Rose being hurt in any way. At least now if she were, he'd be here to take care of her.

She'd closed her door half-way. He tapped lightly on the thick, polished wood. "May I come in?"

"You need something?"

He poked his head around the door. Rose was just pulling a pale blue jumper over her head. Her legs were bare; she wore lightly patterned, pastel pink panties. She turned around.

"Just wanted to change your bandage," he said, pointing at her knee.

"Oh. All right."

She sat down on the edge of the bed, and he knelt on the floor before her. He removed the bandage then dabbed antiseptic over the wound. The edges were reddening, so he was glad that he'd thought to have another look at it.

"We might need to start you on a course of antibiotics," he told her, "just as a precaution. I'll keep an eye on this and see how it looks this evening."

He was bent over her knee, attention fixed upon the wound, but he still felt her hand move through his hair. He looked up at her.

She smiled.

"What?" he asked.

"You. You look… I dunno. Content."

"I am."

"An' why's that?"

"I'm here with you, and I know you're safe."

A feeling washed over him, and again he recalled Chloe Webber and the momentary warmth that had filled him as he'd provided her with those few moments of comfort amid the internal storm she was fighting. He taped a clean bandage over her knee then sat beside Rose on the bed.

"Rose," he began, unsure of how to speak the words that would surely disappoint her.

"Hmm?"

"Would you mind…" He paused, changing his tack. Sometimes it was best to just spit out what needed to be said. "I don't think I want to work for Torchwood."

She appeared a bit surprised. "Why not?"

"It's not that I don't want to work with you; I'd love that. But I think I have a pretty good idea of what Torchwood's about. And after what we've just been through, after all the destruction and death, I don't think I can be involved in that any more, at least not right now."

She took his hand. Her eyes were bright and sharp. "An' what is it that you want to do?"

"To help, to put things back together instead of destroying them, to make things right… To heal the wounds." He glanced down at her knee again.

"You mean literally?"

He nodded. "I think so."

She smiled. "Well, that'll solve the problem of your name."

"Might need to come up with a last name, though. I should probably be Doctor Somebody or Other."

"I'm sure we can think of something."

"Thing is, I haven't got qualifications that I can prove."

"Pete'll take care of it."

"You sure? Even if I'm not working for Torchwood?"

"It won't be a problem. I think he'll be glad to know you're doin' something good."

"And you don't mind? We'll see each other at night, and on the weekends if you aren't working."

She leaned forward to deliver a soft kiss to his lips before enveloping him in a hug. "I think it's brilliant. My Doctor."

He was. At last, he was.

* * *

_The End_


End file.
